


In Which Howell Makes Some Welsh Cakes

by TravelMarvel



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, JONES Diana Wynne - Works
Genre: F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TravelMarvel/pseuds/TravelMarvel
Summary: Pendragon family antics. Based on the HMC book.
Relationships: Calcifer & Sophie Hatter & Howl Pendragon, Calcifer/Howl Pendragon, Lettie Hatter & Martha Hatter, Lettie Hatter & Martha Hatter & Sophie Hatter, Sophie Hatter/Howl Pendragon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

_In Which Howell Makes Some Welsh Cakes._

"Here's Morgan."

Howl had been reading a welsh newspaper lazily by the hearth. He hurriedly tossed it away in time to catch the baby that was dropped into his arms.

"He's awake early this morning."

"Yes, and he only got to sleep late last night."

Both parents groaned inwardly. A son that had the habit of transforming into a kitten and going rogue about the house was problematic. Last night his tired father had decided to cast a charm to prevent this from happening.

Sophie walked briskly about the room collecting up a pile of baby things.

"I've fed him already, but here's his bottle, his blankets and- Howl!"

Howl had resumed reading the newspaper, balancing Morgan hands-free on his chest.

He met his wife's glare and hastily readjusted their son back into his arm.

"I was just reading up on the rugby love, its all fine. He's fine."

Sophie snorted in indignation.

Even with his idle nature, Howl showed a lot more experience with babies than Sophie. At times, she envied him. Howl could do practical things like softly bounce Morgan to sleep in one hand while making up his crib with the other. He told Sophie she was overthinking it and that she was going to ease into motherhood naturally. This statement didn't reassure his wife as much as it annoyed her.

"I'll bring something home for lunch… my sisters might be coming over…"

"That'd be good cariad," Howl murmured. He was now reading the TV guide and not paying much attention.

Sophie kissed Morgan on the forehead. "Watch your father for me and see to it he gets some work done."

" _Sophie_ , Its my day off."

Morgan turned his wide grey eyes to his father, who looked down warily, "he gets that glare from you." He gave her a scintillating smile, "so, does dad get a kiss?"

He frowned when she withdrew. Sophie went to fasten her hat in front of the foyer mirror. "I'm late. Lettie will be wondering where I am."

"Your sister's wondering where you are."

A particularly wicked looking fire demon flew in as Sophie opened the door (dial turned to yellow).

"Calcifer," Howl came over, with Morgan on his hip, "we haven't seen you in ages. Who have you been terrorising?"

"Oh I've been visiting the odd fireplace here and there... but Lettie told me to stop invading her privacy. Anyway, she and Suliman don't argue nearly as much as you two do," he sighed. "I missed the drama."

"We're not that bad anymore," Sophie grumbled. "There wouldn't have to be any arguing if I had a husband who would - " just then Howl bent down and captured her mouth with a kiss. Sophie pushed against his shoulder for him to release her.

"Scoundrel!" She reprimanded him angrily, her cheeks were flushed but there was a hint of a smile. Howl, Morgan and Calcifer watched her red-gold hair flounce behind her as she turned up the street.

Morgan started to cry.

"She'll be back soon cariad." Howl stroked his back.

Calcifer sparked heatedly. "And that's why you don't have kids. They're loud, snotty and obnoxious. I hope you don't plan to have any more."

"Well actually," Howl said, "Sophie and I are looking forward to growing the family. It's not an impossibility that very soon we _might get somewhere_ …"

Calcifer coughed in disgust at what Howl's raised eyebrows were suggesting. "How would you find the time? With Morgan crying all night long…"

"That, my friend, is where loyal apprentices come in handy. Michael's a great baby sitter."

"Poor Michael," said Calcifer, "are you _sure_ you got your heart back?"

"Hey, it wasn't my idea. It was originally a cunning tactic of Sophie's to persuade her sister to think twice about having ten children."

"You're both as mad as each other. Nobody who saw the way you two argue would guess it was love."

"It's just our way I suppose."

Morgan was still crying loudly. Howl double-checked that Sophie was out of sight. In seconds his son had morphed into a softly mewling black kitten.

"You let him do that!" Calcifer cackled, "If Sophie knew she'd be furious."

"Well, it makes him happier…" Howl said as the meows turned into soft purrs. "And quieter."

Morgan squirmed out of his father's hands and set about dashing about the parlour. He tried pouncing up on Calcifer who flared warningly.

"I know you don't like confrontation, but you shouldn't indulge his habit."

"I'll change him back after I fix my hair. Feel free to relax in the grate and watch him while I do so."

Calcifer spat flames and settled into his familiar spot in the fireplace. "You'll have to fix those grey hairs I suppose," he muttered.

"Demon! I'll throw a bucket over you yet."

The bathroom door closed but was reopened minutes later by Howl now wearing only a towel.

"Say, Calcifer. Could you, by any chance, make up some hot water?"

"Humph. Sophie frees me for a thousand and one years and yet I'm still being used up." Nevertheless his flames turned bright blue as he heated up the pipes.

Howl seemed to have decided to do a lot more than fix his hair (Calcifer's snide comment must have gotten to him). And within the first minutes he was gone Morgan had managed to scratch up an armchair and knock over a pile of kindling.

"Hey kid," said Calcifer lazily from the hearth "don't do that."

By the time his father re-emerged Sophie's well-ordered household was a mess.

" _Pam fi Duw,_ " said Howl, witnessing his son splashing about in a puddle of flower petals.

"I tried telling him not to knock that vase down."

"Yes, I know. This was a bad idea." Howl raised his arms bringing them down with words of thunder. Calcifer flickered at the strength of the enchantment. A dark haired baby now wriggled on the floor. "Morgan," said Howl, picking him up, "You really will have to stay as a baby boy; you're too much of a mischief-maker otherwise."

Morgan seemed to have grown tired from his escapades and began to fall asleep in his father's arms.

"Why, Howell. You _can_ be a responsible father when you try."

"Of course I can."

He looked down at the broken vase.

"Damn. That was Sophie's favourite."

"Why don't you just mend it with magic?"

"Well, obviously."

Just then the front door swung open and in walked Sophie followed by her two sisters and their respective fiancés, "Howl darling, I hope you don't mind–," her face gawked with shock as she took in the whole spectacle, " _what have you done to our house_?"

Did I really take that long in the shower? Howl thought to himself. He turned to his wife, gathering up his excuses, "I left Morgan with Calcifer for one minute. I don't know how he did it but he somehow managed to turn himself into a cat – and I was just about to clean up when you walked in."

"You are _such_ a slither-outer!" shouted Sophie. "The nerve you have, passing on the blame to Calcifer and Morgan. I know very well you must have lifted the charm. You were being _lazy._ "

"At least I've managed to get Morgan to sleep – with all your yelling I'm surprised he hasn't woken up. And I _was_ going to clean up. Besides, how did I know you were going bring company?"

"I told you so this morning! I _should_ be able to bring people over without having the house in a shambles."

Howl and Sophie glared at each other. An awkward cough from the foyer made their faces go red as they remembered they weren't alone.

"We should come back later," said Ben.

"Trust me they'll be arguing for hours," Michael muttered.

"We could go to Ben's house," offered Lettie.

" _Wait_."

The group froze under Sophie's stern words of magic.

"I'm not going to waste my time arguing. I'm coming with you."

"Well we'll wait outside while you two sort things out," said Lettie. The group made a hurried exit.

"I thought you'd jump at the prospect of a good tidy up."

Sophie was not in the mood to be swayed by her husband's charm, "pass me Morgan – I'll see if he wants feeding."

Howl shuddered at her gruff tone and decided to start sweeping up the broken vase. He took the pieces over to his workbench and sealed them back together. Replacing some of the flowers back in it, he placed it on the dining table. Looking over to the hearth, Howl was heartened to see the warm, domestic sight of his wife and son nursing by the fire. Sophie looked tired and upset. She was nestled into the torn up armchair, still laden with all her shopping. Howl remembered how worried she was about Morgan's obsession with wanting to be a cat and how sleepless last night had been for the both of them. Demonic eyes glared back at him out of the embers – _do something you fool._

"Sophie, I'll make it up to you…" Howl came over to sit on the armrest. He wracked his brain for an idea. "Tell your sisters, Michael and Ben that instead of lunch we'll do… afternoon tea."

Sophie swung her heavy grocery bag of her shoulder and handed it to him, " _well then_ , I guess you can use all the things I bought for the quiche I was going to make."

She gave him a scathing expression before she took Morgan upstairs for his nap.

Howl saw to putting the house back in order while she was gone. He cast a glamour across the floor that made it shine with cleanliness as his wife descended the stairs.

"I doubt even you could do a better job, love." His eyes followed her for approval.

"Fabulous, I'll remind you of that next time you start whining about cleaning up the bedroom."

He opened the door for her. "Have our friends over here at four," he said.

"Howell," Sophie said, looking up at him. "You know you don't have to go try and prove yourself to me. I just wanted you to look after Morgan – and I know you do a better job of that than me– but you could put in a full amount of effort for a change…"

"I totally understand. But would you _stop_ inferring that you're a bad mother? I just saw you nursing him by the hearth – you were so natural, so motherly – seeing you; nothing has ever made me so proud or made my heart so warm," he smiled down at her, "not even a fire demon."

"Ugh, do you have to be so disgustingly sweet," Sophie said, poking him in the chest. "I'm meant to be angry with you."

"You can't help being married to such a charming wizard," said Howl gallantly. He pulled her into an embrace, "but I'm still going to make afternoon tea. In the mean time I want you to go relax and have lunch out with your sisters."

He looked past Sophie's shoulder and saw their friends waiting a little way up the street. He waved over at them, signalled that they had made up. He was met with a glare from Martha as Lettie whispered something fervently in her ear. "I get the feeling I'm not in their good books."

"Have you ever been?" Sophie laughed, looking behind her. "Okay, I shouldn't keep them waiting… I'll bring them around at four."

"Excellent." Howl bid everyone goodbye and went back inside.

"Afternoon tea?" Calcifer cackled from the grate, "Since when did you bake?"

Howl found one of Sophie's aprons hanging in the kitchen. "While I'll admit I'm not a baker," he said, "if my welsh roots have taught me anything, it's how to put together a proper afternoon tea."

"Well, it looks like you've gotten yourself into _another_ scrape to me."

Howl ignored him and went to scan the library. "Megan wrote down mum's welsh cake recipe for me, which should be somewhere… _._ "


	2. In Which Afternoon Tea is Served

_In Which Afternoon Tea Is Served_

The benches were cluttered with bowls and covered in flour, as was Morgan, who was eating dough off the kitchen floor.

His father meanwhile, was knelt beside the kitchen grate in silent prayer. He watched closely as Calcifer flickered underneath a griddle of welsh cakes.

"Just make sure they don't burn, Cal," he said, running a flour-encrusted hand through his dishevelled hair

Calcifer rolled his eyes, "They _won't_ I promise. And quit staring like that. Go and start cleaning up before Sophie gets home."

"Ah yes," Howell swivelled around and was a bit shocked by how much chaos had accumulated, " _Morgan,_ that's disgusting," he picked his boy up and put him in the highchair, giving him a bowl to lick instead.

Howell wiped down the bench and started the washing up, and then the kettle finished boiling.

"I think they're ready now too," said Calcifer cooling his flame.

Howell peered over, "they look good!" he exclaimed, rushing to grab a plate to put them on, "I can't believe they turned out so well. Just like my mum used to make them…"

"So this is a family recipe?" asked Calcifer. Howell casually sent magic over his shoulder that finished the washing and drying while he piled up the cakes.

"Not really. It's a Wales thing…" said Howell, trailing off as he began to set the table. He never shared much private information to anyone about his former life in Wales. Even while holding his heart Calcifer hadn't figured out a particular reason why. He guessed it was just Howell's sheer laziness of explaining all the concepts of alternate worlds to people.

"There we go," said Howell proudly, putting his hands on his hips as he surveyed his handiwork. The platter of welsh cakes sat next to a steeping teapot. Each place was set with a mix-matched cup and saucer, there was an assortment of jams and a pitcher of cream, and the tablecloth was white and crisp. A vase of brightly coloured daisies set the whole table off beautifully. Morgan had finished with the bowl and was now reaching for the jam.

Howell shifted the jar out of his reach and gave him a cooled welsh cake instead. "Finished with this are you Morgan?" said Howell taking the bowl to the sink; "I'll wash it up for you."

It was excellent timing for Howell to be looking so productive (yet also having the kitchen so immaculate) when Sophie came in.

She did not hide her surprise, letting out a gasp when she saw the table ( _and_ the state of cleanliness of the house), "Howell, it looks lovely!" The rest of the party were also very impressed and full of complements. Not that Howell heard any of them, for as soon as they had all entered, he had swept by only to give his wife a quick kiss before rushing off to the bathroom. The pipes screeched loudly and Calcifer turned into his most demonic-looking bright blue element to heat them.

"For the second time today! I am a slave to his vanity!" he roared.

"Of course, he _must_ fix his hair," Sophie grumbled drily. She was secretly touched that at least her kiss had come first in her husband's necessities.

Sophie picked Morgan up and held him. She had hardly seen him today. Was she a bad mother to have really enjoyed this little holiday? She _had_ missed him though. She kissed his floury cheeks, "had a good day with your dad, darling?"

Calcifer stirred in the hearth, "you bet he has! Especially when dad lets him frisk around as a feline, eat excessive amounts of sweets and generally make mischief."

Howell's voice came thundering over the sounds of rushing water from the bathroom, " _I did not!_ Cariad, don't listen to him – I enforced a lot of discipline today!"

"Huh, always so defensive," Calcifer cackled, "you'd think he'd be used to people ruining his reputation by pointing out his faults."

Sophie went over to the bathroom and rapped on the door, "are you almost finished in there? The food's going cold."

"Lets just start without him," said Michael, "I know full well how long he takes in there." A few of the others nodded and turned to Sophie for her approval.

"Just wait a moment more," she said to them before banging on the bathroom door again, "I never knew you were this good at playing the host, Howell. While you're sprucing yourself up, I'll go invite my mother, Mrs Fairfax – and your sister. They need to experience this hospitality as well," Sophie smirked.

The pipes screeched again as the rushing water stopped, "I'll be right out."

Howell's hair (which looked as though he had put a copper rinse through it) was still damp and he had changed into a resplendent dark mauve dinner jacket, "apologies for my appearance everyone," he said, pulling out a chair for his wife, inferring Ben and Michael to do the same.

"Oh yes darling, you look utterly repugnant," Sophie whispered to him. Howell flushed even though he detected her sarcasm.

The tea was poured, the welsh cakes distributed and conversation began.

"Pass that blueberry jam please Michael," said Martha. As she slathered it on she began to discuss the baking with Howell. "These are really delicious, so you call them welsh cakes? And they're from that place through the black portal Michael told me about?"

"Yeah, they're from Wales," said Howell simply, taking a sip of tea. The chatter died away abruptly. He looked up from his teacup and found that all eyes were on him. He leaned over to his wife, "what's the matter?" he asked.

"I suspect they are curious," said Sophie.

"Are _you_ curious?" Unlike the others, Howell had taken Sophie to Wales on numerous occasions to visit his family.

"Of course I am. I'm always intrigued by it. It _is_ another world after all. Maybe you could give them some brief history on welsh cakes?"

Howell turned to his fellow welshman. "Would you like to do the honours?"

"No, you go ahead."

Howell sighed but conceded to give a short lecture. It took him back to his university days when he used to give speeches about the theories of alternate worlds. It was much the same, except this was the humble subject of welsh cakes.

"Wales," he began, "is historically known for agriculture and mining. It was once the largest coal-producing country in my world. Welsh cakes were traditionally made by the lady of the household as a treat to serve at afternoon tea, and were also given to children with their school lunches. Since they are durable, filling and delicious, welsh cakes also became a favored treat of the coal miner husbands of many a Welsh housewife. Indeed they are the perfect size to be slipped into a coat pocket, these sweet reminders of home were often the only bright spots in a miners otherwise dark and dreary day spent toiling 'down the mine'. Over time as my world's societies modernized, the need and patience for making foods by hand became scarce. Welsh hats and coal shovels were traded in long ago for business suits and computer keyboards. Thus, such traditions as welsh cakes have almost all but faded away these days, but that makes them an even more cherished part of our culture that we pass down. In conclusion, sweet but not overly so, welsh cakes are an example of a unique and traditional food that reflects the resourceful, wholesome, and practical nature of the Welsh people."

Ben smiled at him, both welshmen were feeling patriotic pride for their country. None of the Ingarians said anything. Howell did not exactly expect a standing ovation, but he did want some reaction to his recount other than silence.

"So in other words, its a flat scone," came the cackling voice from the hearth.

"Yes," said Howell feeling annoyed,"thank you Calcifer."

"What's a computer?" someone asked.

Howell poured himself and Sophie more tea. "Its your turn to explain Sullivan."


End file.
